Origins Nedra and Piyoa
by Azrael Heavenblade
Summary: A story of a pair of silver and gold High Elven twins, born with great power, but separated at birth. In time, they would be reunited, but not before their own unique lives were shaped.
1. Default Chapter

Just before Daybreak in Felwithe . . .  
  
The smooth white marble room was quiet except for the low chanting by the Koada'Dal clerics, and the low, frantic panting of a mother in labor. Bruciaré Fiamma waited patiently alongside his wife, Ghiaccia, as she carefully went through the breathing exercises before the next series of contractions hit. They had been coming in increasing frequency over the past few hours, and just about every person in the room was dead tired. Two midwives, including their close friend Sohana Pjara were also waiting with the head priest directing. The chant maintained by the gathered clergy had a two-fold purpose, detect the health of the mother and her unborn child, and to detect and deal with any problems before or as they arose. Their voices were at a low ebb at this lull, but with a keening moan from Ghia as she was more known by her friends and family, they picked up once more as the latest set of contractions were underway. Despite their fatigue, they never wavered, for the lives under their charge were too precious to ignore.  
  
"We're almost done, keep up the effort, madam, the child 'tis nearly clear," the priest told the straining woman as she struggled to bring her baby into this world. With a final grunt, Ghia gave it her all, and soon the wailing of an infant could be heard. Taking the newborn in his gloved hands, the priest held the child aloft. "It is a girl! Congratulations, keepers of the art! May this daughter of Felwithe eventually come to bring much power and knowledge to the art she chooses!" A magician, Bruciaré was sure she would be, as his heart swelled with pride. She was no son to be true, which he felt some mild disappointment at, but he was still in his prime with many years to go, surely he could produce any number of sons. Running his hands through his light blond hair, he turned as a priest carrying a book came forwards holding a pen and an inkwell on top of the tome. It was now his duty as the father to name his child. With great satisfaction, he took the quill, dipped it into the ink, and scribed the name he had chosen and his wife agreed to: Nedra. A great name, for a daughter destined for greatness. He returned the quill, and had begun to turn around when he heard his wife give another moan and a grunt. Was she still in labor? {Impossible!} he thought as he whipped around and rushed to her side.  
  
Incredibly, what issued forth from Ghiaccia's final efforts before she fainted from the strain was not the afterbirth but another baby, she had given birth to twins! Rarely if ever had this happened in the annals of births in the city of marble, and Bruciaré soon had thoughts of even greater fame awaiting him, for such a unique double birth would have to be noticed, especially by the elders among the Keepers. There would be grand expectations for such an event . . . But his joy soon turned to shock. The twin, another girl, was so pale, and did not appear to be breathing. His heart went from the highest of peaks to plummet to the earth. "Is she . . . ?" he asked, daring not to think of what it could mean. Even the priests had stopped chanting and had raised their heads to look. The head priest frowned and took the infant, brushed a hand against her cheek, and shook his head. "Such a dreadful color . . . she cannot possibly be living . . . I'm sorry," he proclaimed. With a great sadness the younger man looked down at his daughter and a tear escaped his eye, for with her his dreams had been dashed. Still, his attention soon turned towards Nedra, his living daughter, who was being cleaned, and swaddled.  
  
"What should we tell my wife?" Bruciaré said after a while, as Nedra was laid at her mother's breast. The older man pulled on his long beard and pondered for a while then said, "She was aware for the older of the twins to be born, that is all she needs to know. She has one daughter, and she can be content with that. I am sorry for your loss, but many a child has been born still before. A tragedy to be sure, but not unexpected despite these times." "Isn't there any way you could . . . ?" the mage asked, but knowing what he implied, the cleric shook his graying head once more. "The spark of life never entered her body, there is no ember to re-ignite, unlike the living. I think it is best that we all move on from this," he explained, and handed the pale twin to Sohana, who came forwards to take the girl.  
  
Knowing the duty did not make it easier for the pale-haired woman as she carried the infant through the still dark streets, crying softly. It was a shadowy business, but Felwithe did not need to know that one of its daughters had lost her chance at life before she was even born. She went down to the river carrying the child in one arm and the shroud she would be buried in on her other. She dipped a hand experimentally into the water and found it freezing, even on this summer morning. Sighing, she tried to dry her tears with a handkerchief, but she could not get over the fact that she was carrying the body of her best friend's child, who she was to have been the governess of, had she lived, and the tears continued to flow. Shaking her head, she lowered the baby into the water to wash it for burial, and to her shock, when the icy water touched the back of the girl she began to wail! The baby was alive after all! Hushing the child desperately, Sohana cleaned her the best she could and lifted the girl out and wrapped her swiftly in the shroud turned swaddling.  
  
After a while, the baby calmed down and opened her large eyes. They were a pale pale blue, like frost on a still lake on a winter day. She was breathing, but the breaths came so calmly and slowly, it was what must have caused the illusion that she was deceased. But what could she do now? The child had been recorded as a stillborn, she couldn't very well carry her back to her parents, they would think it a hoax, or a trick. Or at least that was what had happened in the stories she had read endlessly in the libraries. A thought grew in her head. It was not long ago that she had given birth to a stillborn herself, a son, so she was capable of nursing this child. Though it pained her to do this to her friend, she wanted a child to raise of her own. If she tried, she might even be able to get a name for her scribed in the Registry of Births. Walking swiftly but silently, she proceeded back to her own humble home and set the child down. Her husband had been sent abroad, not to return for years if not decades, she could at least take comfort in a foster daughter.  
  
A few days later . . .  
  
"Felwithe! It is my pleasure to announce the Birth of Nedra, daughter of Ghiaccia, wife of Bruciaré Fiamma! To these two children of this fine city, a wizard and a mage, it is Our great hope that she too shall come to take a craft among our Keepers of the Art! Let us raise our voices now to welcome her coming!" With that proclamation, a cheer arose from the gathered High Elves. Sohana watched from a side building, carrying the as yet unnamed twin in her arms, the girl's face hidden by the blanket in which she was wrapped. Nobody would look twice at her, she was always taking care of the children of others. Soon after Ghia and Bruce, as she nicknamed him, had returned home, she followed the priest carrying the registry, leaving the baby inside the inn. Before he could go back into the hall of the clerics, she stopped him outside, saying, "Hold, there is something I must tell you, you witnessed the birth as well as I, there is something at least you and I should share!" Intrigued, he followed her back. He stopped dead however when he saw what lay waiting on a table. "Impossible!" he exclaimed, his face paling. Smiling, Sohana shook her head. "It is no feat of necromancy, the child lives! The old priest, he was so sure of her death that he did not even bother to try and start her crying, but she did cry when I started to wash her!" she told him, waving her hand for him to be quiet. She quickly explained her intentions to him as he paced around the room shaking his head. The book and the baby lay side by side on the table, the newborn girl watching with interest at the two adults, still so very quiet, but that silence betrayed a great intelligence already at work inside her head.  
  
After a while, resigned, the priest opened the Registry and took up the still wet pen. He flipped to the last marked page, where the ink of Nedra's Proclamation had not yet dried. "You have a name, I suppose?" he asked, disturbed by what he was doing. Sohana had thought it up the previous night as she nursed the child herself, doing what her mother should have been doing. "Yes, I have a name. She is to be Piyoa, named after my grand- mother," she told him, and he wrote it down swiftly. He next etched in the same Proclamation date as her sister, but his hand paused when he reached the Family to which she was to have been proclaimed. "Since she is a daughter of Fiamma, should she not have the Name too? Or shall she be of your house, since you intend to raise her, no matter what trouble that may cause down the line?" This had not occurred to Pjara, and she was given pause as she thought about this new development. Inwardly, she wanted desperately to return Piyoa to her sister's side, but she did not know how that could be done.  
  
Then it came to her. Later down the line, years from now, this could all be rectified, the twins reunited, but only if they were sisters in both body and Name. "Yes," she remarked after a while. "It is only fitting that she, as a true daughter of Fiamma, belong to that house, though she will not join it until I believe she is ready." The cleric calmed at this, realizing what the governess had decided, for if Piyoa was Named as part of the family she truly belonged to, it was bound by law that later when the two sisters were grown, they would have to be Acknowledged, and then they would be back together. So, he wrote very carefully in the registry, completing the entry.  
  
Born To-Day, the thirtieth of June, crescent moon (waning) Piyoa, daughter of Ghiaccia, wife of Bruciaré Fiamma, twin sister to Nedra Daughter of Felwithe  
  
{I shouldn't be here . . . but she needs to hear this, it is as much for her as it is for her sister,} Sohana thought, carefully readjusting the blanket to cover little Piyoa's face while still allowing her to breathe, and perhaps just as importantly to hear. It was the Fiammas' baby shower, and the bard, who had made the relatively short trek from Kelethin in record time, was playing the special paean for the birth of a Koada'Dal girl. Sohana had originally intended to go alone, but now she had an important guest to bring. It was still intensely dangerous though . . . should Ghiaccia see Piyoa, she would instantly know her daughter's face. Even if she weren't Nedra's twin, a mother can always identify her child.  
  
Though what she was doing was far from traditional, something inside Sohana wanted to make sure that every custom was observed for Piyoa . . . difficult to do, but possible. But not forever . . . she would have to be Acknowledged when she became an adult, at which point it would be impossible to deny her heritage any longer, but that was the time that Sohana had planned to re-unite her with her sister, at a time when the memory of her birth would be faint, and feelings of shock would hopefully be lessened. But that would prove to be quite hard, seeing as she would have to keep Piyoa a secret at the same time as performing her duty as the governess of any of Ghia's children, of which she could possibly have more!  
  
{So far so good . . . } Sohana thought as she weaved through the moderate crowd, she had managed to avoid Bruciaré, despite his continual pacing of the room, making sure to bask in the praise of each an every visitor, though it was really his wife who deserved it. No sooner had the thought crossed her mind, Ghiaccia came down the very same staircase she was standing in front of. "Sohana! I'm glad you could make it!" she exclaimed upon spotting the startled woman. "Ghia, shouldn't you be resting?" Sohana responded quickly, turning her body in an attempt to hide the baby in her arms. "I'm feeling fine, really! It wasn't that hard of a birth, why my own mother fainted three times . . . and who do we have here?" Ghia began to say, but immediately noticed a corner of Piyoa's blanket peeking out, and recognized what it was.  
  
Caught unprepared, Sohana blurted out half-truthfully, "J-Just a foundling, that's all." "And you volunteered to take care of her? You really have such a kind heart, you're always helping to take care of the orphans we find . . . but are you intending to hold onto this one?" Ghia exclaimed, smiling warmly at her friend, but making Sohana's heart lurch. "Yes, I am . . . How'd you know she was a girl?" Sohana asked nervously, but the wizard just shrugged and muttered, "Let's call it mother's intuition, shall we? Since I have a daughter of my own now," giving a little giggle. {Daughters,} Sohana amended, but she was becoming increasingly distressed at how closely Ghia was hitting to the mark each time. But it was what she said next that almost her yelp in fright. "I'll bet she's just darling, why keep her all covered up like that? Can I see her?" "No!" Sohana said hurriedly, but when she saw the confused, slightly hurt look on Ghia's face, she explained once more half-truthfully, "She caught quite a chill when I found her, I daren't uncover an inch of her until she recovers since she needs to be kept very warm."  
  
Immediately Ghia recovered her cheer and nodded, remarking, "Well, you'd know better than I would . . . can I hold her at least?" Very reluctantly, Sohana handed her daughter to her, and Ghia kept true to her word, she didn't uncover her daughter's face, but she did sing softly to her, a song Sohana recognized as the very one Ghia's own mother sang to them when they were childhood friends. Slowly Sohana calmed down. As she listened, she hoped she would be around when it was time for Piyoa to sing that song, "A New Moon Rising" to her own daughter some day. But the calm was broken with the sound of a baby's cry. Sohana's heart skipped a beat until she realized it came from upstairs, meaning it must be Nedra. Ghia came back, and handed Piyoa back, excusing herself to go feed her baby. Sohana nodded, and said good-bye, letting herself out of the party. It was only when she got back to her own house that she let go of the breath she had been holding. In her arms, Piyoa began to whimper and clutch at her. "You must be hungry too, huh?" Sohana remarked, relieved, and walked into her calm, enclosed, and thankfully, windowless study. There, she sat down into her favorite wooden chair and undid the buttons on her dress, and let Piyoa nurse. {You should be with your sister at your mother's breast, but I guess I'll have to do . . . } she thought, watching the tiny girl suck at her nipple. {I'll have to do for a long while . . . }  
  
Years later . . .  
  
"And poor Haniel was lonely no more, for he hath the lovely Cerise to watch over him. Koada'Dal and Human . . . though their union was brief, due to the shortness of Haniel's life, their love was eternal. Two angels, together forever. Finito," the professor finished, looking around at his students, and was only mildly disappointed. The boys had paid little to moderate attention, only interested in note-taking and while the girls had listened closely, few seemed interested save one. Nedra sat in her seat, chin clasped in her hands, her eyes glittering at the tale. But then again, he was hardly surprised. Nedra was his best student, and she was always at the edge of her chair whenever he read any of the old romances. Though yet young, she was already an astounding beauty, and while she was interested in boys, those her own age were not at the point at which they accepted girls just yet. Sighing, he clapped the book shut, and proclaimed, "All right, students, a report comparing The Two Doves and our previous book, A Rose Without Thorns will be due after the weekend. As always, be diligent in spelling and punctuation, I expect nothing but the best to be placed on my desk on that morn. Dismissed!"  
  
Nedra stood and shook out her long blond waves of hair, and the other girls clustered around her and started chattering excitedly, class entirely forgotten in an instant, as the brushes came out and they started doing each other's hair while the boys fled the classroom in poorly hidden relief. Sitting at an open window peering from behind some curtains, Piyoa was completing her own lesson. Though, truth be told, she had been listening as attentively as her sister to that story. She felt she belonged in that class, but halted that notion, remembering what Sohana had told her, "You must not meet your sister until you both are grown . . . that is when all will be made clear." Yet she had already started to imagine that day, comparing herself to Nedra as the days passed. It was like looking in a mirror, their faces were so alike in structure and form, but she was calm and reserved while Nedra was vivacious and energetic, and her hair had departed from being no different from her twin's to be as white as shimmering snow and perfectly straight. She let the curtain fall back into place as her sister skipped out into the street followed by her crowd of friends, friends she wished she had, but she knew she preferred solitude and quiet, over inane chatter. She wondered, did that make her odd, or simply more mature?  
  
"I can't believe you actually like listening to those dreadful stories day after day, Nedra!" Fleur was saying, muttering, "Boys, ick!" under her breath, to which came whispers and nods of agreement. "I think they're so romantic! To hear about the love they had for one another, it makes my heart sing! I can only hope that one day I can fall in love like that . . . " Nedra exclaimed, beaming, as she darted ahead, followed closely by her 'entourage'. "With even a human?" Pryss asked sarcastically, earning a round of laughter. "Yes, even a human!" Nedra remarked with a wink, sparking even more giggles. They scampered through the streets, not really paying attention to where they were going as they made their way to Nedra's house for mid-afternoon tea. It was then that Nedra unexpectedly ran into something very hard, shiny, and unyielding with a loud *CLANK*. She found herself sitting on the ground with a large bump beginning to raise from her forehead, and as the pain started she began to wail.  
  
"You ought to be a little more careful where you're running, little miss," she heard someone say, and she opened her tear-filled eyes to find herself looking into the most odd eyes she had ever seen, besides her own. She had violet eyes, an odd trait, but the pair she gazed upon now had two colors, blue with a ring of brown around the pupils. Pulling back, she realized she was looking at a human man, with dark brown hair and a full beard. The thing she had ran into was the breastplate covering his stomach. She began to blush, half from embarrassment, and half because the man was tall and handsome, and paying enough respect to her to befit a lady! For he had kneeled down and was holding her small hand in his large gauntleted ones. She began to say, "I'm sorry . . . " but he hushed her and placed his hand lightly upon the bump. At first she winced, but was astonished to see blue light pulse from his hand and her wound heal. She noticed the sword hanging in a sheath on his belt and realized, {He's a paladin!}  
  
"I'm afraid I haven't introduced myself yet, my name is Raphael, little miss, and you are?" he said, standing up, as she clambered to her feet, smoothing out her student's robe. "Er, um, Nedra, milord," she stammered, trying to remember the proper courtesies, but found herself blurting out, "What are you doing in Felwithe?" Her friends gasped at the breach in formalities, but the man just laughed. "Surprised to see a human, girl? That's quite all right, I'm just here to pay a visit to the paladin guildmaster here for a few weeks, I need him to help me with something. And I'm willing to forget this little accident, for one so pretty, and with such unusual eyes. Tell me, what got you so excited?" Raphael explained, smiling, his bright teeth a stark contrast from his beard. Blushing even further at the compliment, she found herself telling him about the book, how she admired the human cleric Haniel, and likened herself to the mage Cerise.  
  
Raphael raised his eyebrows at this, and exclaimed, "The Two Doves? You've got taste then." "If only it was real," she breathed, closing her eyes with a smile as she permitted herself a brief daydream. When she opened her eyes, she saw that Raphael had a funny smile on his face, as if she had said something ironic. Before she could ask what it was, he said to her, "You know, a lot of old stories are based on even older truths . . . who's to say that there really wasn't a Cerise and a Haniel?" "Really?" Nedra asked, her eyes brightening. She was going to ask more of this intriguing man when her mother opened up the door and came out. "I'm so sorry my lord, for my daughter's behavior," she apologized, and at first, Nedra thought she was in trouble, but when Ghia clasped her hands on her daughter's shoulders, they were light and comforting. "Pay it no mind my lady . . . meeting her was . . . refreshing. Hopefully, I'll be able to tell her more stories if I have some free time during my stay here," Raphael told her, and smiled once more at Nedra before walking off. Nedra watched him go with a swish of his cape as rapt as if she had met one of the heroes in her books. "Before you get too excited, darling, its time to discuss this with your father," Ghiaccia told her, and Nedra groaned, while her friends turned and left, realizing what they would be in for if they stayed.  
  
A few days later . . .  
  
It was blessedly hot in Felwithe, so for a change of pace, it was declared that it would be time for swimming lessons in the lake in the center of the caster guilds, segregated by different times for boys and girls of course. Currently, it was the girl's free swim, the lessons having ended, and they had a while to splash around and play before they would have to get dressed and let the boys have a turn. Unfortunately, all Piyoa could do was watch, fanning herself as she watched from a bench secluded behind some trees and bushes, but in clear view of the lake. Again, Nedra stood out from her classmates, not just in her quick learning of the strokes, but also in body, a body which matched Piyoa's own in almost every detail. While the others still had bodies befitting young girls, she and Nedra had already started to blossom, from here it was shamefully apparent.  
  
Piyoa stared longingly at the cool water, but the book on her lap commanded yet some attention. She was about to look back down at it when she noticed some movement out of the corner of her eye. Someone was approaching . . . was it the swimming instructor? No, she realized with disgust and outrage, it was someone who should not be there. Kheldar, one of the older boys, already declared for the Enchanters. He was at the head of his class, which had made him very arrogant, and he had a thing for the younger girls, especially Nedra, who he tried to corner on a daily basis. She almost enjoyed it at first, teasing him and drawing away when he got too familiar, but recently, it seemed like he was growing bolder. Today however, was beyond bold. Somehow, he had charmed his way past the instructor, using his natural talent for that particular line of spell. However, she and her sister had their own natural gifts. Concentrating hard, Piyoa closed her eyes, muttered a few words, and was somewhere else. Meanwhile, Nedra was nowhere to be seen as Kheldar approached the pool.  
  
"Good afternoon, ladies! Might you tell me where I could find Nedra amongst you beauties?" he called in a voice filled with as much smarm as he could load it with, but they were none too impressed, given the rocks, buckets, and floating toys they threw at him, screeching. He snickered and dodged, but his eyes were still searching for the object of his desire. However, she was nowhere to be seen, despite his earlier 'intelligence' from a girl in another class. He was about to slide down the bank and search for where she might be hiding when a hand fell on his shoulder and he gulped. It was Kinool Goldsinger, his future guildmaster. "Sir, I can explain . . . " he began, but his ear was seized and wrenched painfully as the angry enchanter dragged him off, proclaiming, "Demerit for not waiting for class to begin, demerit for debauchery, demerit for charming an instructor, demerit . . . " As soon as they had gone, a particularly large rock shimmered, and reformed back into the shape of Nedra, who glared angrily after the two men. "Honestly, doesn't he ever stop?" she growled, as the other girls booed and hissed. Too disturbed to keep swimming, she strode over to where her clothes and towel waited and dried off. But as she was running the soft material over her golden locks, she wondered, "Who was it that warned Goldsinger? Nobody but us were permitted in here, and none of the other girls left . . . "  
  
{Why do I have to do this inside? I'm boiling up! I guess it can't be helped . . . it's against the doctrine to move the texts outside of the temple when scribing, but at this point I'd do anything for a breeze!} Yeolarn Bronzeleaf thought sulkily as he wiped his brow with a rag that was steadily growing more soaked as the day wore on. His students were probably swimming now, and he wished more than anything that he could join them, but for a man of his position he couldn't, for was he not just a teacher, but a priest? Sighing, he finished the last few lines and almost threw the quill down before reaching for the flask of water sitting nearby. As he gulped down the chilled liquid, he muttered a silent thanks to Marr for ice spells. "Oh, good, I've found you when you're not working," came a voice from the door.  
  
Yeolarn spewed his mouthful of water all across the floor as he instantly recognized the speaker. Raphael was watching him from the doorway, trying desperately not to grin as the high elf tried to start breathing again. "But . . . how? You're back? You haven't aged much more than I have; how is that possible?" the cleric gasped as he staggered up from the stool and towards the human paladin. "Hey, I guess I just age gracefully . . . it's been what, one and a half centuries?" Raphael chuckled as he stepped forwards and clapped his friend on the shoulder. The elven man began to smile, but his eyes soon caught the hidden urgency in the other man's eyes. "It's back then . . . isn't it? After all this time?" Raphael nodded, and suddenly anger filled Yeolarn and he punched a marble pillar nearby, and he cried, "Why? I thought we were done with all of this! We were supposed to have gotten rid of them all!" Just as soon as the rage and frustration came on, it faded, and Yeolarn looked at Raphael with a weary glance and asked, "Do the others know?" Raphael afforded a glance back to the door, then turned back and replied, "Most of those I could find know . . . but few will be able to come. Of course, some of the Companions won't be here because of . . . well, you were there when we fought the Abyssal, you know." The cleric nodded grimly, and followed Raphael out the door.  
  
Bruciaré's heart was racing as he made his way down the street. It was impossible...why, after he had started to build up a family, that he was raising his only son, did Raphael have to come back into his life? He fingered the silver square bouncing against his chest as he weaved his way past passer-bys. It had been nearly two centuries ago that he had first received that piece of metal, and even now, his duty was not yet complete. Looking both ways, he entered the inn, and made his way upstairs. He was shocked at how few there were to greet him. Beside himself, there was only Yeolarn, Tarker, Boltz, Tylvana, and Reinne, along with the man they were all here to see . . . Raphael. "All right . . . let's get down to business . . . where is the Kraken?" he growled, squaring his stance and crossing his arms irritably. Reinne sighed, and said softly, "Calm yourself . . . we've already pinned it down to a few areas . . . it's most likely to strike near the Butcherblock docks." The human monk had aged considerably since he had last seen her, following the usual human pattern, now nearing her later years, but still strong. But Raphael? He was still in his prime, he looked no older than any of the elves.  
  
"All right . . . " Raphael began, and pointed once again to a map and a calendar they had rolled out on a table. "I've been tracking its movements, and in the next few days, it will have completed its circuit around Faydwer and will likely attack the best point to come ashore...ergo the dwarven docks," he explained. His brown and blue eyes narrowed then, and he looked critically at everyone, but seemingly especially at Bruciaré, and told them, "If there's anyone you care about . . . do not let them get near the ocean any time soon . . . especially if you have family." Tylvana nodded, her golden hair only slightly streaked with gray, and the wood elven druid made her way down the stairs again. Boltz huffed, and muttered, "Bah, the docks arrrrre our 'ome, let th' beastie come, we'll give it a what-for!" After this proclamation, the dwarven warrior hobbled off, just barely hiding the limp in his left leg. The other high elven men departed, and soon it was only Bruciaré and Raphael left.  
  
After watching them go, Raphael shook his head and sighed. "Are we really that few now?" he wondered aloud. Bruciaré stroked his chin and replied, "It can't really be helped, aside from those who perished in the battles, most have duties they can't be pulled away from, like being a father." Raphael turned on his heel and stared the magician in the eyes. "I know you don't want any part of this, but I need you. I've met your daughter, and I've learned you have a son, but in order to keep them safe you need to make sure that the juggernaut out there in the sea doesn't reach them," he told the mage, grasping his shoulders in a firm hold. "I . . . I have my work as a keeper of the Art . . . I have tomes to study, spells to research . . . " Bruciaré tried to say, but none of his excuses changed the paladin's determination. Sighing, he threw his hands up in the air and began to stalk off, calling back over his shoulder, "Fine! Ruin my life for a second time for all I care! Just leave my wife and children out of it!" Raphael ran his hands through his beard, muttering under his breath, {That might be harder than we suspect, old friend.}  
  
{It's only for a few days . . . by the end of the week it should be over, and I can return to my life once more. God, why did this happen to me? Well, it's been happening for millennia now, to dozens of men, and will likely continue to happen for ages to come. It's kind of funny now that I think about it . . . eventually, I'll be taking up residence in the head of my successor, along with the rest of us. Even old Cammael couldn't fully escape it, I guess I just have to be resigned to the fact,} Raphael thought to himself as he stood on the balcony overlooking the river watching the afternoon sun begin to sink towards the horizon. {Champions and their Companions . . . a cycle almost as old as this world, what wouldn't we give to put an end to it? Bruciaré and Yeolarn thought they were done, and now that they're dragged back into it, they're mad as all hell. It's not exactly like its swell with me either, but I'm impressed with those who are sticking with this. I have to be strong and follow their example. They might be from another planet, maybe even another dimension of reality, but goshdarnit, they're my friends!} he pondered, throwing a loose chip of marble into the slowly flowing waters below.  
  
No sooner had he heard the first small splash than a second one followed it. He looked to his right to see Nedra slowly draw her arm back to her side from throwing her own pebble. Slowly, she turned her head towards him and smiled, her violet eyes sparkling. "So, did you come here to sit and think like I did?" she asked, smoothing out her robes and sitting down on the steps underneath the walkway. "Certainly, it's nice and peaceful here, with the river flowing past. Very conducive to wondering, you know?" Raphael replied, joining her on the steps. For a few minutes, they sat there in silence, just letting the wind blow gently and the sun shining down on them. After a while, Nedra turned to Raphael and asked with a wink, "Now, how about those stories you promised me?" Raphael laughed and remarked, "Did I? Well, it's not as if I don't have anything better to do, so make yourself comfortable." The high elven girl giggled and propped her chin on her palms as she laid down on her side while the paladin began his first story, which quickly turned into several upon gentle prodding by Nedra, as her smiles, winks, and pretend sulking collapsed swiftly what little resistance he had.  
  
By the time he had finished, the sky was starting to turn a rosy shade of pink and lavender; it was winding down towards dinnertime. "Well! I'm afraid that's all I can remember for now, if I'm still around after a while, maybe I can find some more," Raphael told Nedra, stretching his arms high above his head to relieve the stiffness from sitting for so long. "I think that would be kind of hard to do, seeing as I've read most of the ones in the library," she murmured, hiding a grin behind her hand. This comment caused Raphael to laugh out loud again, and Nedra soon joined him in laughter. "I've never seen someone so fascinated with romance!" he exclaimed, impressed in spite of himself. She grinned, and responded, "I like to think of it that I'm being very faithful to my goddess." She fingered a small silver amulet hanging on a silver chain around her neck, of an artfully worked heart. "Ah, Erolissi Marr, why am I not surprised? One would think you would not need anyone to tell you about love, since you seem to already know everything there is about it!" the human man remarked, reminded of the stylized lightning bolt of Karana hidden under his breastplate. To his surprise however, her cheeks reddened, and steepled and unsteepled her fingers nervously as if she wanted to say something but was too embarrassed. Before he could ask however, she said haltingly, "That's not true . . . in fact . . . I was hoping . . . " This was quite remarkable for a young lady usually so forward in her behavior, and he gently encouraged her by replying, "Yes?" She took some time to let her cheeks lose their redness before continuing, "Seeing as you are as versed as I, and probably far more experienced in . . . such matters, I would like to ask you some questions." As she spoke the last word, her cheeks flushed again.  
  
Raphael smiled secretly, recognizing the source of her caution, but said nothing, but simply nodded in return. Hesitantly, she asked, "What do you think love is? I mean, what qualifies as love?" Raphael gave a soft whistle, she had gone for the most difficult question first, but he already had an answer in mind, so he replied, "Well, love is a strange thing to try and classify. It's mainly because there are so many ways to define love. It can start as just a simple sort of preference really, like you prefer one kind of drink above all else, because you like it so very much, for it tastes so good, yet you also like the others. When it comes to people, there are many levels too. You love your friends in a way; they are close to you, you enjoy being together, doing things together, yet not as much as you love your parents. Parents and their child enjoy a more special bond, because you share each other's blood, and they can often see themselves reflected in you, reminiscing on their own childhood while you revel in your innocence. Now for romantic love, ah, there comes the real tough part. For two people to love one another, it is a tighter bond than friendship, because to each person, so much about their partner appeals to them on a deep level, right down to their soul. The way they look, the tastes they share with you, the way they laugh, the way they smile . . . In the end, they end up wanting to spend the rest of their lives together, and they promise to stay that way thanks to the love they share, through thick and thin."  
  
Nedra sat and listened with a fixed gaze, listening attentively to every word he said, nodding occasionally, twisting a blond lock of hair around her finger while he spoke. After he was done, she glanced sideways and asked her second question, "When two people love each other, does it matter . . . does it matter if they are both men, or both women?" Shocked, Raphael didn't speak for a while, but he felt compelled to reply when he saw her blush further, as he realized the reason for that question. "I suppose that although that might be odd to some people, gender doesn't really matter if two people's souls find the bond of love together. Though certain things might not be available to them, it doesn't make their love any less." "Thank you . . . " she replied quietly, staring down at her sandals. Abruptly, she looked back up at him and gave a small smile, and asked, "Do you have someone you love somewhere, Sir Raphael?" Glad that she had asked something easier, he nodded, and pulled out a small scroll, which once he had unfurled it, she could see the portrait of a young human woman with straight blond hair, blue eyes, and a radiant smile. "Her name is Magdalena. She's my wife, back in Qeynos, where I live. She's born me two sons recently, who I hope to see after I get done here." "Oh, so you're married?" she remarked, looking mildly disappointed, at which Raphael chuckled. "Yes, we met nearly ten years ago, and were married soon after. Thankfully, she doesn't mind when I go out gallivanting all over the planet," he told her. "Ah, she's so devoted, that's great . . . but . . . that brings me to my next question, what is devotion?" Nedra asked, smiling wistfully. {Back to the difficult questions again I see . . . } Raphael thought, bemused, but he replied nonetheless, "When most people think of devotion, they equate it to faithfulness, that your heart belongs to your partner and nobody else. This means that you don't enter into a relationship with anyone while seeing someone at the same time. Yet devotion I think goes deeper than that. It means that you will endure much for one another, like when a man will go to great lengths to prove himself to a woman's father, or a lady waits for her betrothed to return from a long campaign so they can be married. Or once you are both together, you will try to keep each other's spirits up through difficult times, weathering difficult events together, using your love to make it through."  
  
Nedra nodded very slowly, lost deep in thought. Raphael looked about, thinking maybe she was done, yet she spoke up, sensing his mild impatience. "Thank you, dear Raphael, yet I have one last question. What do you think about intimacy?" "Hmm, that is very difficult to pin down. When you love someone, intimacy can simply mean you understand each other very well, and sometimes you don't need to say anything because your spirits are so in tune. As far as physical intimacy goes . . . I can only say that is up to each person in his or her own relationship. It can range from simply sitting together, holding hands, to sharing the same bed. Of course, depending on the seriousness of a couple's attraction, different levels of intimacy would be acceptable, yet in some cases intimacy can grow rather quickly. It is up to you how you want to show your love for the person you feel deeply for." When he looked back at Nedra, he saw with some surprise that she was tearing up. "Thank you again, my good sir knight . . . You have given me much to think about, and I am glad you could spend your time to answer my foolish questions," she said to him, smiling despite the few tears forming in her eyes. "I don't think they were foolish at all, it was my pleasure to answer them for you," he told her, taking out a small cloth and wiped her eyes clean. Around this time, the sun had sunk a great deal, and now it was getting dark, there was only very low light to see by, and guardsmen were going around lighting the lanterns and torches around the city.  
  
"So, shall we meet here again tomorrow? I shall surely have some new stories for you by that time," Raphael asked, standing up. Nedra shook her head, and she began smiling again, "I'm sorry, but no. My mother is taking me and my brother to the sea shore tomorrow, we shall be gone all day!" The impact of what she said blocked out his slight happiness at her excitement, as the paladin's heart lurched in his chest. "What . . . Never mind, do you think you could convince your mother to postpone your trip for a week or two? I have some business with the dwarves down at the docks for some . . . construction, it might be dangerous," he lied, hoping futilely that he could somehow use her fascination with him to keep her away from what could very well be her death. Nedra put her lips into a full pout this time and exclaimed, "Why? This is the first time I'll have ever seen the sea, and likely the last for a while before I'm accepted into an Art, and have to spend years preparing to go out on my own. Besides, I'm a big girl, and Mother will be there to help us if anything happens." "I'm just concerned about you . . . " he began, but he knew it was a losing battle as she dug her heels in and poured on the charm. Then, an idea came to him. "Tell you what, since I'm bringing some friends along, I'll be able to show you around the docks and introduce you, while keeping you safe all at the same time, how does that sound?" he asked, and her face lit up. "Great, I'll see you then! I have to get going, or else Father will get worried," she told him, bouncing forwards and hugging him tight before walking swiftly off towards her house. He wanted to go with her and to try to talk to her father, who would surely try and stop this little excursion, but at this hour, Bruciaré would be less than willing to talk. He would have to try in the morning. As he walked back to the inn, he said a prayer to a god he was not sure could hear him anymore, {Lord, please let me be able to protect her and her family.}  
  
The next day. . .  
  
The air was very tense in the inn gathering room as Raphael related what he had heard from Nedra, and why they were going there a day early. Bruciaré was not there, and Raphael could only hope that he was at his home trying to argue against going to the beach. As expected, the prospect of having to guard several people while waiting for a deadly force capable to destroying the docks as easily as wet paper was not taken well. "Tis impossible! Why couldna they haf waited fer a few days? We cannae baby-sit a couple of youngins whilst waitin' fer a Fallen?" Boltz demanded, and the others echoed their agreement. Raphael waved his hands for order, and after all was quiet, he told them his plan. "Look, we shouldn't expect it to get here until at least tomorrow, we can evacuate them if necessary, Ghiaccia is a wizard herself, surely she'd be able to get her children out of there on time should anything happen. Besides, if nothing does occur, we might all benefit from a little bit of relaxation to break some of this tension." He wasn't expecting his Companions to be very convinced, but they seemed amicable to the idea. "I guess we'd better back, and get down there. They won't wait until noon to get going after all," Reinne remarked, and walked out. Glances were exchanged, and soon they all went off to prepare.  
  
Raphael gazed out over the shining expanse of the Ocean of Tears from the end of the dock, but could see nothing but peaceful rolling waves. A look behind him echoed the quiet atmosphere as he saw Nedra, Ghiaccia, young Zektoll, the governess Sohana, and Tylvana eating lunch together. The only thing slightly out of the ordinary was the hooded girl accompanying Sohana. When he had asked, she had told him that she was very sensitive to the sun and needed protection from being burned, but surely she would not need to cover her face, a parasol would do nicely, so he was a little curious. It was not long before he found her as he scanned the docks. She was standing at the other edge of the pier, looking down at some fish swimming close to the surface of the water. The other thing that intrigued him about her besides her mysterious identity was the fact that she was of the same height and build as Nedra. It was interesting, since governesses only teach the children of one family at a time, and despite learning that she had a habit of raising orphans and the like, she would have only had time to do that before she was accepted into her current job. Bruciaré had told him that he had only had two children, yet Yeolarn had spoken of the day of Nedra's birth when she had a twin sister who had supposedly been a stillborn. But what if she had lived? He would have to try and talk to that girl later, to confirm his hypothesis.  
  
Suddenly, her head snapped up and she looked out towards the ocean, he could see the outline of the tips of her ears twitching under her hood, and the tip of a ponytail of snow white hair came out of her hood from that violent motion. He could hear nothing, yet he knew of the uncanny hearing of the elves, so he too looked out to sea. He still saw nothing, yet the cowled girl was beginning to make some slow steps backwards, so he pulled out a gnomish looking glass and activated it. At the furthest reaches of the horizon, a bulge was beginning to form in the water. At first, Raphael thought it might be a shark coming close to the surface to attack a fish, but as he watched, the bulge grew and began moving towards shore at a pace too great to belong to any wave. He cursed and stashed the looking glass in his pack and shouted, "It's coming! Prepare yourselves! Get the others out of here!" Upon hearing his cry, the "work crews" of dwarves standing around began to hurry Ghiaccia and her children away, while they swiftly threw on armor and gripped axes, swords, and maces. At their agreed-upon positions, his Companions were readying their own defenses. Tylvana hefted her mystic book and orb, getting ready to cast, Reinne held on tightly to her staff, Yeolarn, Tarker, and Bruciaré prepared their own magic, and Boltz lifted aloft his great axe. The surge was clearly visible now, and as it rose, a great deep purple glow could be seen under the water from where the creature's Focus surely lay. It was getting far closer now, a thousand feet out, eight hundred, five hundred, its speed increasing. Yet right before Raphael was sure it would rise up out of the ocean to attack, the creature made a sudden stop, yet the water kept on coming, forming up into a tidal wave. They had maybe fifteen seconds before impact when he noticed that the hooded girl hadn't made it out, she was frozen in shock. With desperate speed, he dashed down the pier and made for the other set of docks, knowing he had little chance of making it. Making the leap across the water, his feet pounded down the wooden planks as he ran towards the girl, yet the wave was right there, not more than twenty feet away. But before it could hit, her form flashed bright white and she faded away. {What? She's too young for . . . wait, she has a Talent!} he thought in shock, skidding as he tried to change direction. With the force of a giant, the tidal wave struck, flinging him backwards.  
  
Frantically, he tried to ride it out as it carried him up its length, eventually sending him over the stone wall of the docks and down into the hills. The others had to hold on to whatever they could, most managed to stay in place, grasping a pole or hanging onto a building, yet some of the dwarves were swept out the entrance, while others were slammed against the granite of the wall. The wall was not that high, so few were injured, but the guardians of the docks were badly shaken by the unexpected attack. A deep keening sound could be heard as the Kraken rose out of the water to make its attack. While it resembled a great octopus, it had as much in common with that animal as a sparrow had to a griffon. A deep blue in color, it had many plum-colored sacs attached to its body, and upon its great mantle its Focus could be seen, far larger than any of the Fallen they had seen earlier. It was composed of a pentagon inside a circle made up of seven triangles, with the central triangle crafted of dark purple crystal, glowing fiercely. Unlike the gelatinous texture of its hide, the sigil seemed constructed of hard rock carved into its current form. On its underside, a great beak clacked and snapped, extended out of the core of its body.  
  
Coming forward, the Kraken lifted its eight enormous tentacles and struck out at the dock, reducing it to splinters. The port authority building was flung away like a toy house, where it crashed against a stone mesa. Two of the sacs attached to those tentacles burst, showering acid down upon some of the dwarves that still clung to the docks, melting them where they lay. "Attack!!!" Boltz shouted, having regained his feet, as he charged the Fallen. They had learned from the first time they had fought this beast that the Kraken was invulnerable to all magic with the exception of fire- based spells, and although it possessed a tough leathery hide that healed quickly, it could be damaged with mundane weapons. Other dwarves, having recovered from the wave, began attacking, some letting loose shafts from their bows, others dashing up what was left of the docks to fling themselves at the monster. Tarker and Bruciaré released great bursts of flame that broiled the slimy skin of the Kraken, causing it to release great bellows, and it ruptured more sacs, attempting to fling the corrosive solvent at the mages. Yeolarn and Tylvana kept what few warriors healed that they could, but when hit by the acid, most were beyond help. Reinne had also leapt into the fray, using her staff, charged with her own spiritual energies to slam against the beast's mantle over and over. Fortunately, there were more warriors than acid sacs, but as time wore on, the casualties they were taking became gravely obvious. But from out of nowhere, a great comet of fire flew overhead and impacted the Kraken close to its monstrous eye, frying its retinas and partially blinding the beast.  
  
Bruciaré looked back and saw Ghiaccia preparing another spell. She had apparently gotten the children to safety, but rather than fleeing with them back to Kaladim, she had returned to aid them. Instead of relief, his heart filled with panic. He attempted to scream at her to get her to run, but nothing could be heard over the din of the Kraken's screeching and bellowing. Raphael had finally managed to regain his feet and was sloshing through the currents of what was left of the wave as he furiously attempted to get back to the docks. As he ran, he tore off the hatch on his breastplate covering his amulet. There, surrounded by blue crystal was his own sigil, that of a square composed of alternating silver and gold triangles, six of them, with a seventh triangle in the center, made of a pure white gem. Only the Fourth Power would be enough to shatter the Kraken's focus and banish it. The last time, he had only succeeded in wounding it, sending it to the bottom of Erud's Crossing. As he ran, he could see the scarring of the previous battle, the one thing it could never heal completely. Regrettably, the dwarves, the Companions, they would have to serve as a delaying action, weakening the Fallen sufficiently for him to land the killing blow. When he reached the docks, what greeted him was a scene of total carnage. What was left of the docks had been totally broken, and now the Kraken was slowly forcing itself up onto land. Unlike real octopi, the Kraken would never dry out or weaken on solid ground, in fact, it would gain the advantage of not having water to hinder it any longer. Reinne lay crumpled on the roof of one of the dwarven huts, clearly dead. Tylvana stood on one leg, the other dissolved by a splash of acid that had claimed the life of two dwarves fighting beside her. Boltz was gripped in one of the Kraken's tentacles, still slashing away, but being swiftly crushed to death. Yeolarn was still attempting to heal despite a huge lump on his forehead. Bruciaré and Tarker appeared to be the only two still uninjured, though Tarker's robes were riddled with holes from where he had been hit with the splatter from the acid.  
  
I'm getting too old for this . . . let's hope we've still got enough life force to do this . . . Raphael thought as he dashed up the slope towards the writhing Kraken, not noticing Ghiaccia standing off to the side. Focusing his will, a ball of glowing blue flame manifested in his hand, and with a grunt of effort, he charged it up to where it glowed sky blue with power, and threw it with all his strength at the creature's mantle. Unfortunately, it saw his attack, and blocked its forehead with a tentacle. What the Kraken did not expect was the force of the explosion, and with a deafening BOOM the tentacle was severed, and covered in eldritch flames, which still consumed it even when it lay on the ground. If the explosion was loud, the bellow that followed it nearly caused the human man to pass out. With a roar, three tentacles lashed out for the paladin. Unable to dodge by normal means, Raphael was forced to use his power to augment his speed and jumps, barely able to avoid being crushed. Frustrated by its efforts to smash the Champion, the Kraken detonated half a dozen acid sacs, which ate pits into the ground where it missed him, but he had to use a shield of spiritual power to guard against a few of the bursts. Panting, he took refuge behind a hut when a few new blasts from the casters drew its attention. His heart kept skipping beats in his chest and he pounded his fist against his breastplate in an effort to keep it going. {Come on, I can't die now, keep going, Robert, you're near the end now. It can't possibly guard itself all the time, just need to hit it at the right time . . . } he thought to himself, worried that he might not be able to kill the Fallen before his life ran out.  
  
Taking a few deep breaths, he ran out into the fray again, and fired off a stream of flame at the Kraken again, deliberately targeting the side of the mantle to draw its attention away from his real target. The Fallen was not fooled, however, and despite screeching in pain again it swept out with its tentacles again and managed to seize him with one. Lifting him into the air, it ignored his attempts to hack himself free, and moved him towards its mouth, guarding its Focus with a tentacle. His ribs breaking, Raphael coughed blood while he furiously tried to use his Fiery Avenger to slice through the tentacle, he was nearly half way, but he was getting closer to the beak quicker than he could swing. {Can't black out, mustn't black out, keep going!} he screamed mentally, but he was losing it, the edges of his vision were blurring. Suddenly, he felt his ribs mend themselves, and his vision sharpened back to normal. Tylvana, despite nearly white from blood loss, had managed to heal him. Furious at the interruption, the Kraken swung the tentacle holding Raphael away from its mouth and opened it wide. It vomited a cloying pool of black tar, trapping the druid where she crouched, suffocating her at the same time. Not willing to let her simply asphyxiate, it burst a few of its remaining acid sacs and melted her to bones. "Tylvana!!" Raphael cried, and with renewed strength, severed the tentacle that was holding him. He knew that he couldn't do anything but keep fighting, her permanent death filled him with anger. Yet the Kraken's focus was on him once more. It was raising one of its six attached limbs to strike once more when he heard someone say in his own voice, "Over here you stupid fish!" Standing a distance away was his mirror image, waving an identical sword at the Kraken. Dumbfounded, the Kraken stared at this impossibility. This gave Raphael all this opportunity he needed.  
  
Using what he hoped wasn't a fatal amount of power, he shot a burst of fire directly at the Focus. Unblocked, the crystal, as large as his torso, cracked from the heat and a few splinters broke off from it. Hissing with pain and rage, the Kraken realized which was the true Champion and lashed out at Raphael using two tentacles, though it spared one to try and smash the doppelganger. It missed, but the image shrieked in a girl's voice, and with a shimmer, revealed it to be Nedra. Against all reason, she had made her way back to the docks to fight. Bruciaré, seeing his daughter in danger, poured all his strength into a final burst of flame which he blasted directly at the creature with a scream of effort. The fireball blew a huge hole in the side of its mantle, and the Kraken bellowed. But while it was focused on killing Raphael, it swung out a tentacle and hit him squarely across the chest, sending him flying off into the hills where he hit a pine tree and fell to the ground unconscious. The only two left able to damage the creature were Ghiaccia and Raphael himself. Yeolarn meditated frantically off in a corner, healing when he could, but without Tylvana helping, his abilities were sorely taxed. Raphael was becoming unnerved, though he could theoretically kill the Kraken now, it might very well mean his death, and he had almost no-one left to help him, Yeolarn was the only Companion left, as Boltz had been flung into a hut, and was sprawled on the ground dead with his skull cracked open. Tarker floated still on the water, Raphael was sure he wasn't living any longer. And despite the success of Nedra's trick, which had to be a Talent, he was sure of it, it wouldn't work twice. But, out of the corner of his vision, he saw a mysterious flash off to his left. The girl wearing the robe was there, but this time her hood was off. With a shock, Raphael saw that though she had different hair, this young woman had the same face as Nedra. The rumor was true! The Kraken, noticing a new interloper, lashed out at the high elf, but she disappeared, only to reappear in a different spot. Perplexed and frustrated at its inability to hit her, the Kraken kept swinging, leaving Raphael alone.  
  
Knowing this was his last chance, Raphael charged up another burst of energy, not focusing on his heart, which threatened to stop at any moment. Yet before he could strike, Ghiaccia managed to get off another impressive fire bolt, striking the creature directly in its snapping mouth. The tar stored in there ignited, and the Kraken spewed flaming ichor and naphtha out of its maw. Using the last of its acid sacs, the Fallen sent a wave of fluid that she had no time to dodge. The lower half of her body was dissolved almost instantly, and enough was splashed on her chest to be fatal, though it would take time.  
  
"Mother!!!" three voices cried. Nedra, Piyoa, and even little Zektoll, no more than a boy, rushed to her side. Ghiaccia looked up through the one eye that was not being eaten away by acid and saw her children bending over her. Feeling helpless, all the girls could do was cry, but they then realized whom they were kneeling next to. For perhaps the first time in their lives, the two sisters saw each other full on, gazing into each other's eyes, and froze in disbelief. Zektoll, despite his sobbing, raised his hands above his hands and a reddish-orange ball formed, and coalesced into bandages, which he tried tying himself, but had to pull his hands back from being burnt by the acid. Raphael looked over and saw this, but had to hold his astonishment for after the battle, sparing only the thought, {All three! By God, all three of them . . . Talented!} One by one, the young mother gazed at each of her children in turn, but stopped upon seeing Piyoa. Coughing, she somehow managed to smile, and reach up a hand to touch her cheek. "So, I get to see your face at last, my daughter," she remarked in a gurgling voice, her lungs beginning to fill with her own blood. "You . . . know me? You know I'm your daughter? Oh, Mother!" Piyoa wept, and clasped her mother's hand in her own. "I . . . *cough* know. I was pregnant with the both of you, a mother *hack* knows this. I . . . still remember holding you that one day, even if Sohana tried to hide it, I knew you were mine. I know why she did it, I don't fault her, I buried her son myself, and I know that she wanted to be a mother too. I . . . I'm just sorry I won't be able to see you both . . . at your Acknowledging. I'm . . . so happy . . . I got . . . to . . . see you . . . this one time . . . " she managed to gasp. She smiled gently once more at both her daughters, and then her eyes closed and her hand went limp. Unable to contain his rage any more, Raphael screamed, "That's it! Ghiaccia was the last! No-one else is going to suffer!" He stopped charging his fireball and threw it at the Kraken's forehead. Unable to pull a tentacle back in time, the blast hit with full force at the Focus. The purple crystal shattered, leaving a gaping hole. The body of the great beast shuddered, then fell back into the ocean. Knowing what came next, Raphael held his breath. A distance away, Yeolarn did the same.  
  
The body of the Kraken blackened, cracked, then exploded into purple mist. The haze quickly swept over the surviving dwarves, who, not knowing about its effects, passed out swiftly. Yeolarn ran over, holding a wet cloth to his mouth and pulled the three children away from the melting remains over their mother before they could fall onto the remaining acid. The younger high elves, confused as to what was going on, fainted as they took gasping breaths from their grief. Lugging the children was slow, thanks to a broken arm he had sustained from a glancing blow from one of the tentacles, he moved backwards slowly, but suddenly, he found unexpected help from Sohana. She had followed the children back, but unable to do anything to help, being unarmed, she had stood back and watched all the horrors unfolding. She held a dampened handkerchief to her own mouth, and her own eyes were flooded with tears from what had happened to her childhood friend. Raphael checked carefully on the dwarves as the mist began to disperse, his lungs burning as he used a corner of his cape wetted in the sea to try and breathe through. He healed which ones he could, but so few were left, and pools of acid still lingered across the docks. Feeling they could tend to themselves, he staggered out to where Yeolarn crouched, having healed his own arm, holding Sohana while she wept, bending over the children. No sooner had he reached them than he felt an odd stillness in his chest and he fell to the ground.  
  
A day later . . .  
  
"They still haven't woken up?" Raphael asked from his bed, where he lay with several bandages around his chest. Yeolarn shook his head no, Nedra, Piyoa, and Zektoll hadn't recovered. "Damn, the Amnesia Mist shouldn't last that long . . . maybe it's only because of their age?" Raphael growled, rubbing at his aching wrist absently. Boltz and Tarker sat in the only two chairs in the room. There was not much else to say. It was over, but at a high cost. Tylvana was dead, irreplaceably gone, there was nothing to resurrect. Reinne had died from a heart attack, not any kind of injury. It was simply her time. And Bruciaré was inconsolable, now that his wife was dead. Yeolarn had talked with Sohana after he had managed to get Raphael's heart started again, and she had convinced him and the others not to talk about Piyoa's relation to Nedra. They all agreed that it would be best that she discover for herself at the Acknowledgement as it was previously planned, but this time, the only parent Piyoa would be reunited with would be her father. Unconscious but still breathing, he had inhaled some of the mist, and didn't know the truth about his children. "It's over . . . " Yeolarn breathed with relief. But Raphael shook his head. "No, our quest may be over, but some day, the Fallen will be back, but don't worry, some day there will be a new Champion. And thank your lucky stars that you won't have to be his . . . or maybe her Companions." The three men sat there silently, they understood what Raphael had told them, but at the same time it didn't seem real. They looked around absently, trying to find something to say, but nothing came. Finally, Boltz said, "How . . . how much longer will you be here?" Raphael replied truthfully, "I don't know. I still have a few things to do, but it will be good to go back home." 


	2. Chapter 2a

Chapter 2 – Love and Loss

Nedra awoke slowly; her head feeling like someone had filled it with damp cotton. She tried to sit up, but regretted it as the room swum about her. Laying back down quickly, she glanced up at the ceiling, which she realized after a few moments was the ivory-panelled ceiling of her own room back at her parents' estate. Why was her head so fuzzy? Had she taken ill or fainted from a spell or fit? She shook her head vigorously to try and clear it, but only felt nauseous from the effort. She had rarely ever gotten sick, and even when she had the occasional fever or flu it was never quite like this. "Oh, you're awake! I was beginning to think the young mistress was going to sleep for ages!" she heard the maid, Nyelle say. Tilting her eyes towards the wood elf felt like looking through a gnome's distortion lens, but her eyes focused after a few seconds to find Nyelle setting down a pile of linens on a divan in the room. Blinking, she frowned with confusion. Usually her mother insisted on taking care of her if she was sick, and sunlight was shining into the room through the curtains, Nyelle never dropped off linens and clothes during the middle of the day.

"What time is it?" she groaned, lifting her hands to rub the sand out of her eyes. "Three in the afternoon, miss Nedra," the maid replied, after moving to the window to pull the curtains aside a fraction. As the high elven girl's stomach began to growl, she realized how hungry she was. She'd missed breakfast, lunch, and even tea time. As she lay there, her frazzled brain began to clear somewhat, and she realized something was even more awry. The last thing she could remember was arriving at the beach in the Butcherblock Mountains…why couldn't she recall anything past that? Rolling her violet eyes back towards Nyelle, who was arranging her clothes in the dresser, she remarked, "I assume Mother is rather cross that I've slept in so late…I hope she won't be too firm with me once I finally come down for dinner." Nyelle's back stiffened, and she made a small noise as if she was going to say something, but decided against it. Nedra looked towards the door, half expecting to see Zektoll leaning against the door jamb, book in hand; rolling his eyes at her for being so irresponsible, but all she could see was an empty corridor, with the afternoon sun rays creating pools of light on the floor.

"Is my brother still studying in his room? I would think he'd be here to check on me, or at least scold me," Nedra asked, a growing sense of perturbment filling her mind. Nyelle again was silent…she never failed to answer Nedra's questions. The girl turned again to see Nyelle tuck a lock of bright copper hair under her bonnet, but she still hadn't responded. Finally, the maid said in a soft voice, "Master Zektoll is under the same condition as you. Please rest, milady, you've been ill for three days." Nedra gaped at this news; three days she had been asleep? And her brother was ill as well? Before she could inquire after what Nyelle had meant, the maid had excused herself. Very worried now, she again tried to rise, and found that she could, though still very weak, and slightly dizzy. Flopping back down amongst her soft sheets, she played with her golden curls for an hour or so until she felt strong enough to get up and get dressed. As she did up the ties on the back of her dress, she felt comforted that moving about seemed to hasten her recovery, though her fingers were clumsy, and lacked strength. Tottering over to her dresser, she reached inside to find her favourite silk gloves, only to find them missing. Shifting through the drawer, she couldn't find them anywhere. Settling for a plum-colored satin pair, she wondered what could've happened to them, as she was never absent-minded with her things.

The halls of the manor were mysteriously quiet and empty, only the occasional creak of a floor board let her know that anyone was in the building. She checked into her brother's room to find Zektoll tangled up in his sheets, his hair all a tangle, and he was sweating profusely, his skin paler even than normal. Deeply distressed, she hurried as fast as she could to his side and laid her hand on his forehead. He sighed at her touch, but made no other response. His skin was cool to the touch fortunately, but he still looked dreadful. Spying a basin of water with a cloth next to it, she took the cloth and dried his face with it, giving him a kiss on the forehead before she left. As she shut the mahogany door quietly, she wondered, had she been as sick as this? Shuffling down the hall once more, she resolved to find her father, he'd know what to do, or he'd be talking with several clerics and druids on how to heal his precious children. Yet the door to his study was closed and locked. She listened carefully, and heard choked, uneven breathing behind the door, as if someone was trying not to weep. "Father?" she ventured, but received no response. She repeated her entreaty, louder this time, but all she heard was a strangled sob. Something was desperately wrong.

Frantic now, she walked as swiftly as she could throughout the entire estate, calling her mother's name over and over, but nobody answered her. Even Nyelle was nowhere to be found. Trying to calm herself, she cast her mind back to the last day she could remember, which was the day of the trip to the shore. She had been going there with…and suddenly she remembered, she had gone with Sohana and Raphael! Either of them should be able to tell her what was going on! Taking her light cape off its hook in the entryway, she strolled out onto the garden path leading to the manor. What she saw increased her disquiet, as there were black ribbons and hangings all over, as if there was to be a funeral. As she realized what she had just thought, a stone dropped into her stomach. Fear giving her limbs strength, she practically flew down the path into town. As she ran, she repeated the mantra, "Please let Mother be fine, please let her be all right." Arriving at the door of Sohana's townhouse, she slammed the knocker down several times. Yet nobody came to the door. She sidled alongside the house, trying to see inside, but the curtains were drawn across all the windows. But as she looked upwards, she saw one that had a slit open, but as she strained to see through that gap, slender white fingers, like those of a girl's, closed it. This event eerily gave her the impression that someone had been spying on her. Dropping her eyes back to the streets, she noticed that the avenues were likewise devoid of people.

In a panic, she dashed to the inn that she had found Raphael to be staying in, and to her relief, found the door to be open. Marking the empty counter, she took the stairs two at a time to the paladin's room, but found only Yeolarn Bronzeleaf inside. Confused as to why the cleric was there, she began to ask where Raphael was, but noticed that the older man's eyes were red as if he'd been crying a lot. Summoning up her courage, she blurted out, "Where's Raphael?" The high elven man had been looking through an old diary when she entered, but looked up in shock at hearing her voice. Composing himself, he started up and exclaimed, "What are you doing up, young lady? You should be in bed…" But Nedra interrupted him and repeated her demand, "Where is Sir Raphael? Please, it's urgent!" Seeing her close to tears, he began to repeat his instructions, but something inside him bended at seeing the girl, and he whispered softly to her, "He's out in the Faydark, near the wizard spires, but you'd best hurry, he won't be here for much longer." Giving him a hug about the neck, she whirled and headed out the door, not giving the room a second glance.

As she ran to the front gates, she realized that minors weren't allowed outside the city unsupervised, so with effort, she focused her mind and adopted the form of a female bard she had seen a week or so earlier. The guards nodded as she passed, thankfully not seeing through her illusion, but she noticed that they were more lightly staffed than normal. Exiting out through the tunnel leading into the city, she stopped and took in the towering trees and dark air of the great forest. She had been outside before, but rarely on foot, and never alone. Feeling her will faltering, she hurried past the city guards and headed straight out into the forest. She remembered from her lessons that the wizard spires were almost a straight shot out of the city, but there were orcs in the forest, something which terrified her. As her illusion faded, she glanced fearfully about as she ran, yet no squat indigo forms moved within the murky depths of the Greater Faydark. Seeing a glimpse of white up ahead, she sprinted forwards to see the wizard spires rising up out of the ground before her. In their center was Raphael, all alone.

He looked shocked to see her, but before he could say anything she hurled herself into his arms, sobbing, all of the confusion and fear of the afternoon bearing down on her at last. Not knowing what else to do, the human man held her tightly, running his armoured hand through her blond curls. Calming down, she asked in a soft voice, "Please, Sir Raphael, please…tell me what's going on…where my mother is? Where has everyone gone? Why is my brother so sick?" Looking up at him through tear-filled eyes, she pulled her bangs out of her tiara as she added, "Are you going somewhere too? Without saying goodbye?" Blue hazel eyes met amethyst as the paladin struggled on what to tell her. Finally, slowly, carefully, he explained, "Your mother…is permanently dead." Though she had dreaded it to be true, this news hit her like a hurricane and she broke into fresh wracks of sobbing. Letting her quiet down, he went on, letting her bury her face against his neck, tugging slightly on his beard, and told her, "It was a terrible accident…it was what caused you and your brother to become so sick…there was little any of us could do. I wish I could tell you more, but you're not old enough to hear it."

Wanting desperately for him to tell her more, she lifted herself slightly up, but as she did she noticed the amulet that he held in his hand. The blue crystal somehow shined despite the lack of light, and the gold and silver triangles sparkled in their square pattern. "What is that?" she asked. If his eyes weren't sad before, a new kind of pity entered them as he replied, "This…is how I'm going to get home. To my real home anyways. I have no more time here left…my duty is done." Not wanting to believe it to be true, she embraced him again tightly. As she did so, Raphael felt a strange tremble in the Fourth Amulet. Could she be…? he wondered, convinced now more than ever. A smile slowly crept over his face as he realized the implications. Kneeling down before her, he held her up and told her encouragingly, "Don't worry, you'll see me again, after a fashion. But I want you to listen to me closely, for what I'm about to do will have great significance later in your life. Watch closely, for the next time you see something like it, you must seek out a man who bears an amulet like mine. It is extremely important that you do so, for he will need your help, help that I know you can give, as your Talent with illusions proves. Once you find him, never let him out of your sight, as the two of you, along with many more, will have a great role to play in the future."

With that proclamation, he stepped back from her into the center, motioning for her to move back. Confused, but struck by the intensity of his words, she committed them to memory as she watched Raphael lift the Amulet towards the sky. Giving her one last gentle smile, he exclaimed, "Until we meet again!" Her breath was taken away as she saw white sparks suddenly appear around him, as he slowly began to dissolve into them. Hearing footsteps near her, she became aware of Boltz, Yeolarn, Tarker, and her father, Bruciaré, standing near her. Bruciaré looked terrible, his eyes red from weeping, with dark circles under them from lack of sleep. His ordinarily highly groomed silver hair, almost vainly kept perfect was dishevelled. And though he was still standing several feet away, she could smell the reek of alcohol on him. Her father had been fond of drink before, but never like this. But, given the situation, she couldn't find it in her heart to fault him. The four Companions watched silently as the man who they had come to respect and follow for many years of their lives disappear a second time. Raphael too, refrained from speech, as he had given them a parting message years ago that needed no repetition. Their work was done, more than one world had been saved through their efforts, and though it had cost them much, peace would be preserved for a time, until Raphael's successor came, to repeat the Cycle. As the paladin dissolved completely into white sparks, a vast column of silver flame burst forth from the ground underneath him, carrying the sparks up into the sky, with such force that it blew a clearing in the dense forest canopy, giving the gathered elves and dwarf a glimpse of the peach afternoon sky as the column of flame continued on into the heavens. Nedra's tears were forgotten as her breath was taken away by the spectacle. Surely, only the gods could create anything close to something this fantastic.

As abruptly as it began, the column shut off as if a lid had been placed over a subterranean furnace, and the forest returned to darkness. Lowering their eyes back down to the forest floor, Tarker, Yeolarn, and Boltz headed off to their respective homes, knowing that they might not ever be assembled together ever again. Though it seemed to pain him even to move, Bruciaré shuffled over to where his daughter stood and placed a hand on her shoulder. She swiftly turned to hug him about the stomach, and he clasped his arms around her back, holding her to him as they stood together, not speaking. As far as she could cast her memory back, this was the last time Nedra experienced any kind gesture from her father.

Chapter 2: Love and Loss

It was a beautiful morning outside, but Bruciaré never noticed such mornings anymore. In fact, it was rare that he was even awake to experience any morning at all. In the seventy four years since his wife's death, he had taken to liquor like never before, as only the fiery spirit could numb the pain he felt inside. As he creaked open a bleary eye, he amended that. His son, Zektoll, was becoming a promising magician, much like he had been at his age, and he made sure to remind the younger high elf to study hard, though it was often redundant as the boy worked hard to give his father what pleasure he could from his success. Sitting up against the complaint of his muscles and head, he thought of Nedra and groaned. She was every bit as successful as her brother in her studies, close to being declared a full enchantress, but she had become a problem in…other areas. He wasn't sure that he believed all the rumors about her, but what he had heard had disturbed him, and he was often cross with his oldest for encouraging the gossip. Really…a sexual deviant? He had some suspicions about her sexual preference, but he never questioned her on the subject. Smacking his lips, he realized he was very thirsty, and a sniff revealed he could well use a bath.

Deciding to satisfy both at once, he grasped a still half full bottle of wine and put on a robe, and headed out into the hall, making sure to take his keys with him, though he missed grabbing them on the hook in his first few attempts. Taking the short walk down the hall to his son's room, he found the door open and poked his head in. Leaning over his desk, Zektoll was already hard at work, writing furiously on a scroll of parchment as he worked out his spell theorem homework. His wavy hair was tied back from his face by a tight but worn rope cord which he had used ever since Nedra had given it to him to celebrate his one hundred and sixtieth birthday. "Working already?" Bruciaré remarked, making his presence known. Without even looking up, Zektoll replied, "Actually, father, it's eleven, and I've been working for three hours already. Nearly done with this week's theorems, so once I hand it in after lunch I'll be free to practice for the rest of the week instead of always doing homework like the other boys." Feeling pleased for once, Bruciaré actually smiled, and muttered, "That's a good lad." In a louder voice, he told his youngest, "I'm going to go take a bath then go meet with the board at the Academy, I too am actually done with my work ahead of time as well, and so I'll see you tonight at dinner." He then moved out of the doorway and continued on towards the bathroom. As he was leaving, with a jolt, Zektoll remembered what Nedra had told him to say. "Wait, father! Don't go into the bathroom!" But it was too late, he'd already gone. Feeling a touch scared, the young mage eventually shrugged it off, remarking as he picked up his quill, "Oh well, it's her fault for trying this during daylight hours anyways."

Bruciaré was looking forwards to a long hot soak before getting cleaned up to go visit the elder mages of the Keepers of the Art, but as he reached the tall cherry wood door, he found it locked. That's odd… he thought to himself, and fiddled with the keys to try and find the right one. The ringing in his ears was loud enough that he didn't notice the sounds of splashing, giggling, gasping, and heavy breathing coming from behind the door. Finally locating the right key, a small silver one, he inserted it into the lock and turned it with some difficulty to pull the door open. He took a step into the room and then stopped. "Uh, hello Mr. Fiamma…." "Uh oh…." "Daddy, the door was locked for a reason." Quietly, he backed out of the room, replaced the key into the door and locked it again. Were those girls doing what he thought they were doing? He looked down at the bottle of wine in his hand and shook his head. No…no, he had just been drinking too much, and was turning into a dirty old man in his middle years. He honestly needed to get off the sauce. Pouring the wine out into a nearby potted plant, he shuffled back to his room, deciding he would make do with splashing cold water on his face.

Pryss settled down and uncrossed her arms from her chest in the still rocking bathwater from the frantic position shifting that had gone on when they had heard the key in the door. Glaring at Nedra from under her dark red bangs, she growled, "We nearly got caught! When I agreed to this 'experiment', it was under your assurance that we wouldn't be discovered! My parents would never let me hear the end of it…" In contrast to Pryss' natural haughtiness being fired up by the shock of near-discovery, Fleuyr was every bit as unflappable as she ever was, and sat there calmly with a confused, cutely naïve look on her face as she wondered aloud while twirling a lock of peach-colored hair, "Didn't you say he never gets up until the afternoon?" While Pryss' face was red from anger and embarrassment, Nedra's cheeks were pink for an entirely different reason. Still, her own heart was pounding from the close call. Brushing it off with a flip of her hand, causing bubbles to fly up from the bubble bath, she told them, "As I recall, 'someone' was supposed to keep him from coming in here (I'll deal with him later), but as you might've noticed, Father was every bit as hung-over as he usually is upon waking up, I doubt he even noticed anything. And besides, have you ever tried to convince a drunken man to do anything?" feeling upset that the two girls had stopped what they had been doing before they were interrupted, she had been right on the brink... Her scowl fading to a pout, Pryss conceded, "Point." Moving Pryss' hand back to where it had been earlier, Nedra almost purred as she suggested, "Anyway, shall we finish?"

As the scholars' council of the Keepers of the Art looked over the new spell that Bruciaré had devised, he sat down in the artfully worked yet extremely uncomfortable carved wooden chair, feeling chilled as he became sober, something he didn't want to be anymore. Tarker looked over at him, and remarked, "You're looking more ruffled than usual, Bruce, didn't get to take a bath today?" Nodding in agreement, the magician replied, "Errrr…my daughter and her friends were using it." Eirrel, an older wizard, snorted, and muttered, "Humph, if it was young Nedra, I doubt they were just 'using it', so to speak." Chuckles rose from around the table, as Bruciaré's daughter was a regular arguing or joking point. Vorlian, an enchanter more on the younger side remarked, "That girl certainly causes you some problems, huh, Lord Fiamma?" Kinool Goldsinger, Nedra's guildmaster glowered from his chair, feeling a need to defend his young charge, so he interjected, "The only problem with Nedra is that she's too…affectionate. I think that she'll settle down later, we just need to give her time to…explore." Eirrel tugged on his long white beard and scoffed, "Don't give us that trash, Kinool, what the girl needs is a husband…someone to keep her in line." Maendil, a wizard around Bruciaré's age, upon hearing that, got an idea into his head and leaned forwards. "Bruciaré, I've got an idea along that line…Your daughter and my son are around the same age, they've been friendly in class so far, and Eirrel's suggestion got me thinking…"

The young woman they were speaking about had already gotten dressed and was currently practicing her basic spells, red light flashing from her fingertips as she successfully landed a Shallow Breath spell upon the 'test subject', a none too pleased giant rat in a cage. She felt awful about striking the poor rodent over and over again to practice her spells, but it had been the guinea pig for generations of novices, and the ornery rat didn't even seem to be anything more than annoyed by the basic damage related spells he was hit with on a constant basis. She had finished a light lunch just a few minutes before, and had bid goodbye to Pryss and Fleuyr, though the former had given her a significant look before leaving. The enchantress sighed, she knew that people talked about her, but she really didn't deserve all the rumors that erupted out of her closeness to her classmates. She just felt that Erolissi's principles were best served in making sure everyone felt loved, and if that meant physical intimacy, then she was only too happy to give it. At most all she did was give hugs and kisses on the cheek…yet she had partially fulfilled one of the rumors with what she had been doing earlier…Shaking her head, she abandoned the thought and returned to her scrolls. As she was re-memorizing the minor shielding spell, she heard someone come into the practice hall and looked up. She flashed brilliant white teeth in a grin when she saw who it was. Iluvayen, one of the boys from her class that she felt the closest to. With long white hair, a slender but well-built frame and intelligent blue eyes, he was one of the better looking men that she knew, but they shared many interests, and he had shyly even approached her for a date a few times, which she coyly accepted.

Iluvayen returned the smile, continuing to look at her as she lowered her head back down to the scroll. Though a wizard, he had been friends with her when they were in the lower classes, and he still tried to find time to spend with her when he wasn't practicing or working on homework. He let his gaze drift over her entire body, of which he loved every inch. Nedra had matured extremely in the past few decades, to a point where she made most of the older women and a good portion of the younger girls jealous. Full-figured and elegant, she looked every bit the noble she was, she hardly even needed the light makeup she put on each morning, her lips were red enough on their own, full and impish when grinning, and he could only wonder at how soft they felt when they were pressed against his cheek. Her violet eyes had taken on a seductive almond shape, and glittered with cunning whenever she got a clever idea. He noted with some amusement that she had to hold her ample chest off of the scrolls with one arm. Though it might cause her problems later in life, her 'endowments' made him wonder if she would ever need to actually cast a spell to charm anyone…it certainly had 'enchanted' many of the boys in his class. Thinking of that briefly soured his thoughts as he thought of Meobryn. He had told him quickly about his father's decision on his way to see Nedra, but the older boy merely sneered at him, and hissed, "We'll see how long that lasts…" The wizard hated the enchanter, because his obsession over Nedra had nearly brought them to blows, as Meobryn was sure he'd win her over sooner or later, but Iluvayen knew that she only liked men who treated her right, with kindness and romance, not like a piece of meat or a prize to gain.

Finishing her memorization, Nedra briefly tried to cast the shielding spell, but fizzled it on her first try, and Iluvayen's slight smirk at her mistake made her giggle lightly, a sound that the high elven boy relished hearing. Giving up for a while, she shoved the scrolls off to the side and waved him over to sit on the bench near her. The rat, glad that he would be spared some abuse for a while, settled down on the floor of his cage and squeaked in contempt of the two-legged menaces. "Vay, have you finished with your work for the afternoon?" she asked as he came over and sat down close beside her, so that their hips were just lightly touching. Though he felt somewhat embarrassed at the nickname, he prized it because he felt that it was a sign that she liked him more than the other boys, or at least he hoped. Nodding, shifting his long straight hair over to his opposite shoulder so Nedra could lay her head down on his right, he added with a sideways smile, "I succeeded in getting some of Wemonel's poetry from Erudin; I thought we might have a look at it later." In saying so, he produced the book, which Nedra eagerly took from him, her heart glowing at the gift. Yet she was surprised, for such books were expensive to bring over all the way from Odus. What was the special occasion? When she asked him as much, he gulped, unsure of how to proceed, as while he had thought up an entire conversation to convey the news, he forgot it entirely. He shifted uncomfortably, then felt the weight of the box in his pocket and remembered some of what he had intended. Giving her his version of her seductive smile, which he always felt somewhat silly doing, he produced the small box from his pocket and handed it to her, remarking, "I've got something else for you, actually." Nedra knew it was jewellery the instant she saw the felt-covered box, yet what was inside was neither necklace nor earrings, like the kind he had given to her before. Inside was a beautifully wrought gold ring set with a diamond. An engagement ring to be precise. For once, she didn't know what to say as she looked up with wide eyes into Iluvayen's own. With a tender look, he told her, "Even though technically this isn't necessary, I still felt that you deserved it, so I used some of my study money to get this for you. Our fathers decided earlier today that we are to have an arranged marriage. While I think it's sudden, I hope we can work this out." Shocked, but not entirely surprised, for she had known that her father had been grumbling of marrying her off to another noble's son, she hadn't expected it to be to be to someone she actually knew, and liked for that matter. Carefully removing the ring from the box, she handed it to him to place on her finger. As he did so, she looked into his eyes with a warm feeling in her heart as she admitted softly, "I think I'm more than willing to try." Surprised at her sudden demureness, but knowing what he had planned to do next, he leaned in close, and as he had hoped, Nedra closed her eyes and accepted the kiss, wrapping her arms close about him. As he returned the embrace, his mind stopped working entirely as he realized that as wonderful as her playful kisses were earlier, this was something else altogether.

To be continued…

Author's note: Been rewriting some of the names of secondary characters as I realized that they weren't very original. Ex: Raned in Opposites Attract is now Raynel, Kheldar in this story is now Meobryn, etc.


	3. Chapter 2b

A few months later…

The sun had yet to set, despite the lateness of the fall day, casting long shadows across the ground. These fragmented into strands of sunlight and darkness as they passed through the trees and hedges of the garden, woven into an ethereal quilt that lay over two lovers as they reclined on a couch hidden in a secluded corner. Much like the beams and shade danced with each other, Nedra's slender fingers were entwined with Iluvayen's own fair digits. Though it had been a long day for both of them, it had seemed far longer to Nedra. The image that kept flitting through her mind was that of Pryss' reddened face as she swore angrily at the enchantress as the guards dragged her off. Over the past few weeks, their relationship had drastically changed.

Though their friendship had ever been as unstable as the auburn-haired magician's temper, something had changed this day that had driven her to attack her using what little magic she was in command of. That Pryss was angry with her didn't surprise Nedra, the strike of flame that scorched her apprentice's robes as she attempted to strike down an orc pawn that shocked her beyond belief. Pryss had been beyond furious when her older brother discovered their 'relationship' in his sister's diary and spread the fact all over town. But then her fury had been inwardly directed, something had seemingly twisted Pryss' personality all out of shape. Her composure, even when under great stress, which was quite often, was legendary. Though she would fume, hiss, threaten, needle, taunt, and glare, she never went physical with her anger.

Yet as Iluvayen bent over her, the fiery orange of Pryss' Flame bolt was replaced by the cool blue of his eyes and the calm soft rose of the sunset matching the blush upon her cheeks. She lifted a hand to trace along his cheek and he smiled that gentle smile that he seemed to only give to her, and murmured to her, "Feeling better?" Nedra's violet eyes closed briefly and she whispered back, as softly as he had spoken, "Yes…now that you're here. That's why I love you…you're the only one who understands me. All of my confused thoughts, my dreams, you make them right…always." Iluvayen's smile grew wider and he raised his eyes back to look out over the garden as he held his fiancée closer to him. For a while they just lay there, not saying anything, listening to the fading birdsong as night moved into the hills of the manors of Felwithe.

After a while, he said to Nedra, "As to your earlier question…I have no real answer for you. For a woman to love another woman, or for a man to love another man, it's rare to the point of non-existence in our society. That is of course, not to say that it doesn't happen, even to love both men and women in your unique situation. Pryss' behavior is inexcusable, even if her thoughts were suddenly swayed by her parents…not that they mattered before."

He sighed, twining a finger in one of her golden curls before continuing, "I think that though the youths in our society are more open to new thought, it may well take a thousand years for the adults to believe that universal love can exist and not be morally wrong. Erolissi states that all are to be loved, and all love is to be cherished, does that not mean that all kinds of love are to be tolerated? I find it odd that they often use Tunare's creatures to support their argument, since it has been observed by the best scientists, including those at the Ak'Anon zoo that animals of the same gender can feel amorous towards one another…But even so, Pryss' sudden change does not owe to such arguments, as she has dismissed them up until now. She did not even act as herself; it was if her mind was…scrambled."

A low, throaty chuckle drew his attention back downwards as Nedra laughed to herself, muttering, "If only that were true." Iluvayen's mouth curved into a slight smirk as he pinched her cheek, chiding, "Don't be cruel, milady." She giggled and reached up to tweak one of his ears, prompting a retaliation of the wizard reaching his hands down to tickle her sensitive sides. This gentle play continued until the both of them were tangled together on the bench, breathing slightly hard, long hair askew, white strands gilt with shining trim where their tresses mixed. Their faces had ended up close together, and as each felt the other's warm breath upon their cheeks, they drifted closer to meet in a gentle kiss.

But unfortunately, this contact was broken by a call from the Gesmolten manor house by Iluvayen's mother, Nienna. "Children! Dinner is ready! Hurry, you would not care for the pasta to grow cold!" her firm but melodious voice carried to where they lay. Swiftly, they disentangled themselves from each other and Nedra produced a brush with which she fixed the hair of her fiancé before addressing her own tangles. As she worked, she whispered coyly to Iluvayen, "Two hundred and fifty years old, and she still calls us children?" He shrugged as he leaned back into her as her hands and brush ran through his smooth hair, cushioned by her soft curves. "I think she'll still call us children even if we were over a thousand…it's a sign she still loves us as much as when we were small, no matter how many winters that have passed."

Before getting up to hurry to the open doors to the dining room, Nedra put her lips to Iluvayen's ear and murmured softly, "Someday, not too far in the future, she'll have someone to call child all she likes." A jolt pulsed through the wizard's body and breath left his body. But before he could ask her the truth, she danced away, motioning for him to follow her to the dinner. Sitting there, collecting himself, eventually he grinned to himself, realizing that this was just her way of building anticipation. Rather than taunting him, this was to ensure he was too curious to pass up her secret when she eventually told him.

The dinner seemed to fly by as Iluvayen kept sneaking glances at his lover, hoping that he could detect the signs of his suspicions, but aside from a contented glow, none revealed themselves. He barely even noticed the rich pasta in meat sauce that his mother had prepared, making small talk if necessary, but his mind was on other things. One was concerning how Nedra had been eating dinner with them far more often than she did at her own home. Not that Iluvayen blamed her. Her father had become near intolerable, and even her brother Zektoll could not control the elder Fiamma's temper. Increasingly Nedra even stayed overnight, joining Iluvayen in his bed, which thankfully was large enough to accommodate them both comfortably. This saddened the Gesmolten youth much, as when he had been over to the Fiamma mansion he had appreciated the style and taste present in everything that dwelt within that house. From the rich dishes prepared by the cook to the décor, it provided a marked change from the practical, hearty, yet elegant nature of his own home. Though the Gesmolten family possessed much the same wealth as the house of Fiamma, including as many servants, the lord and lady of the house insisted on doing many things themselves.

Finally refusing dessert, he nearly dragged Nedra upstairs as he raced to sequester themselves in his room, and she walked swiftly behind, laughing behind a hand at his eagerness to confirm his suspicions. As soon as the door closed, he had her hands clasped in his as he held her close to him, his question more apparent in his eyes than on his lips. Though she was tempted to lead him on further, her discovery yesterday had made her eager as well, and she couldn't wait to let Iluvayen into the confidence that currently only she and her governess, Sohana knew. "Yes, darling, Sohana helped me confirm it yesterday, I'm pregnant!" she exclaimed, beaming. The moment the words escaped her mouth, Iluvayen's heart swelled with pride and love. For over a year now, Nedra had made it known to him that one of her deepest desires was to be a mother, since she had lacked one herself for so long. And to be one of the first couples of their generation to have a child…it would bring honor upon both their houses.

"That's fantastic!" he replied, embracing her tightly. Letting out a soft cry of excitement, Nedra returned the gesture fervently, burrowing her face into her chest with pleasure. Their wedding was scheduled for half a year from this time, but she would not even be showing much sign by that point. Pulling back briefly, Iluvayen realized with a start that his parents would be overjoyed to hear this news, and started to move towards the door but was surprised to be held back by Nedra's hand as she divined his intention. Sadly, she shook her head no. He was almost bursting with exuberance, but her finger to his lips silenced him. "No, don't tell your parents until the wedding…I don't want this to get out until we're married," she explained, a fearful look showing in her amethyst eyes. It took several moments, but Iluvayen's swift mind reached the only possible conclusion.

"You fear your father's wrath, don't you? If he has even slight doubt as to this child's legitimacy…" he began, and Nedra nodded, her curls bouncing as she finished his sentence, "…he and the other elders will be convinced forever that I have no manner of honor at all." Gritting his teeth, Iluvayen pulled her back into a tight hug, placing a hand atop her head to comfort her as she rested her face in the crook of his arm. "I understand…we will both protect our son as much as we can, until it is time," he growled to the air, as much a prayer as a statement. Comforted by his quiet strength, Nedra felt confident enough now to prod at his chest and chirp, "Son? I don't think it's early enough to be picking out the child's name just yet!" Iluvayen laughed and stroked her hair, and replied, "All right, all right, I admit to a certain hope, but I will love our child no matter whether it is a spirited daughter or a noble son." As they stood there, swaying, Iluvayen added one final request, "Would you please stay inside the city walls then? I dare not risk your life, or that of the baby at this point." Nedra hesitated, not wanting to let go of the exciting days of hunting out in the Faydark forest, but her soon to be husband's presence and earnest voice quickly made her relent, as Iluvayen had always proved that he could bring the outside world to her if she wished. As soft as the breeze of night air that wafted into the room from the open window, she whispered, "Yes, for all our sakes."

In the city proper, Piyoa stewed at the window, a copy of "Riding the Aether" open in her hand. She had grown to be her sister's equal in beauty, pale alabaster skin and hair as white as pure snowfall contrasting to her striking plum robes and twilight eye-shadow. The news had struck her rather hard; and though she knew she should be elated, inwardly she cursed her lack of even a genuine suitor. No, that was not true, she amended, she did have a far too willing suitor in the form of Celsiir, the paladin that seemed to haunt her every step. Her slender pink slips formed a slight smile as she realized that was as much her fault as any, for when she and Fleuyr had risked venturing as far as the Butcherblock Mountains, they had not wanted to go without a sword at their side, and when Celsiir had presented himself, they had swiftly accepted his aid. Celsiir was able, intelligent, and dashing, but he was far too…passionate. It had amazed her that even after just a day's adventure together, he would turn up at almost any opportunity to try and woo her.

Placing the book back on the shelf with the rest of her collection, Piyoa sighed and cast herself back on her small but elegant bed on the second floor of Sohana Pjara's townhouse. "You ought to be flattered…you have one of the most desired young men of Felwithe falling at your feet…yet you keep turning him away, why?" Ice-blue eyes stared up at the ceiling as she laid a delicate hand atop her breast, feeling her pulse throb faintly beneath her palm. Inwardly, her heart desired a tumultuous romance, much like those she read about, and that she had observed her sister and Iluvayen were currently embroiled in, but deeper within herself she realized that the man she wanted would have to match her perfectly. And Celsiir was not that man, no matter how much he…or she might desire him to be. Smiling cynically, she shook her head and chuckled to herself, a husky, throaty sound. "Everything's right but the pace…" she grumbled, easing herself up to pull one of her sketchbooks out and flipped to the last page she had drawn.

She had drawn the paladin in a stage he was rarely in…calmness. Celsiir was fervent in everything he did, from praying, to fighting, to romance. So much fire in him, she mused, when she craved cool water. Flipping to a new page, she lifted aloft a charcoal stencil and cast her gaze out into the night as she let her hand guide itself around the page. She had discovered this talent when she was a little girl…she could draw a faint outline of virtually anything her heart or unconscious dreamt up, and then she could later make a better sketch and eventually ink it in, and finally color. As her hand moved of it's own accord, Piyoa heaved another sigh as she let the cool autumn breeze cool her passion. It was one of the few traits she shared with her sister, though she feared that she shared more. It was not long now until the Acknowledgement…she had waited so long…Until she and her sister both reached their twentieth season and were to inherit the surname of their family and choose the one that they would use outside of the city…

"Are you in here, Piyoa?" she heard a voice call from the doorway. Piyoa's pale face brightened like the moon coming out from behind a cloud as she turned to the entrance of her guardian, Sohana. The elder high elven woman had been more of a surrogate mother than a governess, and Piyoa had come to care deeply for the cleric, and the lonely woman returned the feelings. Her husband's leave had been denied again due to an invasion of gnolls in Highpass, so Sohana had come to rely more and more upon her young charge. Sohana's light blue eyes came to rest on Piyoa much as her hands came to rest on her hips, firmly. "Are you moping up here again? I would think that learning that Nedra was expecting would thrill you!" Piyoa's sketching slowed and came to a rest as her good mood faltered. She lowered her head and tried to begin a sentence, but the feelings choked the words off.

Recognizing the stress in the young woman, Sohana moved over to the bed and sat down by her charge. "Really, how can you be jealous? You're young yet, far younger than when I met my own husband, you should be just now welcoming the first of what are surely to be many suitors," she told the snowy-haired wizard, placing a well-worn hand on the younger woman's shoulders. Piyoa resisted the urge to snort at the irony, and instead heaved a larger sigh as she resumed sketching. Eventually she replied, "I know, mother, yet I cannot help but feel an ache in my heart when I see them together, so happy. I feel almost as much as she does…that bond between us has not shattered, yet when I cannot see her these emotions darken again. I don't bear her any ill will, but instead I am torn between my desire to remain calm and proper, and to explode in a flare of feeling like Nedra does. I grow anxious to arrive at the date when all this secrecy will finally be thrown aside!" At the final sentence, her voice grew slightly elevated, and her stencil scratched the paper with a fury.

Sohana smiled inwardly as she recognized the age-old argument being revived yet again. It had been hard on the girl to endure private lessons, being guided to and fro rather than being allowed to go free like her sister, but this was all for the good. It both amused and saddened her that Piyoa tried so hard to emulate her own demeanor, which had been forged and reinforced over centuries of service to the city, which she felt was denying her surrogate daughter's inner nature. Giving Piyoa's shoulder a squeeze, Sohana responded, "And it will come soon! Keep at your studies, and maybe you will even outpace your sister, and reach twentieth season first! Now wouldn't that be a treat? And you're in the springtime of your life! Feel free to become closeted and stodgy later, get out and enjoy life more!" Piyoa smiled and didn't respond, but Sohana could tell by the relaxed tension in her posture that her words were sinking in, even if it was only slightly. Satisfied, she went to the door and stepped out, closing it softly behind her.

Piyoa sighed as Sohana left. It was the same advice again, but it grew slightly more sensible each time she heard it. If only she could break her habits…but she worried that she would be swept along by a flood of passion if she even opened her soul's gates even a sliver more than she already had. Setting her sketchbook down, she undressed for bed, claiming her nightgown from the wardrobe as she shut the window and lowered the lamplight to prepare to go to bed. As she undid the loose ties in her hair, she finally noticed the drawing that she had made as she had daydreamed and talked. It was a man with dark gray hair, prominent cheekbones, intense eyes, and an almost regal bearing. But this was no scholar, despite the refined appearance. He wore leathers and carried a staff, which was twined with ivy. "A druid?" she wondered to herself as she studied the drawing as she sat down upon the bed. After a long while, she slipped the sketchbook back under the bed in its place as she pulled the covers over herself. "He's handsome at least…" she whispered to herself as drowsiness came on her.

The next day was more of the same…yet again, Piyoa groused to herself as she trudged along ahead of her three-person party. Or at least, she was attempting to. Celsiir repeatedly clambered past her, moving swifter than she in his leather armor than she could in her robe and his longer stride aiding in his efforts to 'safeguard the maidens under his care'. Fleuyr was no help as usual; she thought the whole thing was cute. Piyoa didn't get it…the peach-tressed wizard was as attractive as she, and was of a calm, almost adorable personality. She acted like everyone's gentle older sister, and was every bit the picture of the good lady that any lord would want to take as the object of his affection. But for some reason, all the lads of Felwithe seemed to go after those deemed, "playing hard to get." Which of course, made Piyoa number one in the eyes of many of the young men of both Felwithe, and even Kelethin!

She was very grateful to, yet felt somewhat snubbed by Iluvayen, the man her sister had fallen in love with. Despite her attempts to change her face with makeup, and her style of dress and hair, Iluvayen had reached the truth easily, much to her dismay. While her subtle changes fooled the other boys, the other wizard could swiftly spot the twin of his beloved. This of course necessitated his being brought in on the secret, lest he betray her and Sohana's goals. And he had remained true to his word, helping teach her and safeguard her from her older sister. It was hard indeed, given how often Nedra came to be with him, but he managed somehow. It struck Piyoa as mightily unfair, how such a man of such patience and elegance could be taken with a firebomb like her sister, but he was smitten, no doubt. Though it seemed to the girl that she was a far better match personality-wise, Iluvayen had sat her down once and explained at length his attraction to Nedra.

From that day onward, she never challenged his conviction again, even though she didn't agree with the philosophy he told her. He believed that two people of differing passions and tastes could come together if they shared enough of common thoughts and beliefs, which she was forced to admit that Nedra and Iluvayen did share that kind of closeness. For whatever reason, Iluvayen could reach into the storm of Nedra's heart and make sense of those roiling thoughts and dreams…and Piyoa knew deep in her own bosom that her sister deserved such a man, when everyone else seemed to only get what she gave to them, unable to pierce through to her inner desires. She had to choke back tears as she stumbled on…she wanted such a man, such a person that she could pour her inner feelings out to. She wanted to be able to speak of anything and everything with the man she would eventually marry. She desired nothing less than to let him know of all the hidden treasures of her soul, and have him comprehend everything, without even trying.

"Are you alright, milady? Are you feeling ill? These damp months are especially given to sickness, so if you are weary, I will understand," a baritone voice announced from in front of her, and Piyoa was forced to look up and give a wan smile to Celsiir as she waved him off. She had been surprised to see genuine concern in the paladin's eyes, his unruly white hair falling over his temples as he inclined his head to look into her face. She had an intuition that he really did feel for her, but she did not know how much he truly understood her, and she was afraid to ask. If she were to follow Iluvayen's advice…Celsiir might well prove to be a good match for her. She remembered what Iluvayen had said laughingly when she had told him of her idea that the best couples were those closely matched in nearly every way. He had told her that maybe if she relented and accepted some of the eager paladin's advances he might break her out of her shell, and she might even have some fun, even if by accident.

Today, she forced herself to take another look at the young man in question. In spite of his lack of restraint, he was not false, speaking hollow pleasantries to ensnare an unwitting mistress. He had a personal set of honor, reinforced by his dedication to Mithaniel Marr. He believed that Truth was best served by being true to himself, and to others. As a result, he lived in the moment, savoring each and every breath, each day, and took whatever chances presented themselves. With a bitter pang, she realized that in a way, she envied this ease he had. But could she release her passions without becoming as unrestrained as he? There must be some way…

As they trotted along towards the entrance to the Steamfont mountain range's entrance, Piyoa noticed that a fog was growing, patchy, seeming to come into being at random. Zephyr thin in places, and opaque as milk in others. The closer they got towards the mountains, the worse the fog swirled about them. As they cleared the pass into the Steamfont Mountains, they unexpectedly came upon a clearing in what had become a pea-soup blanket of cloud. In this bare patch crouched a gnome in a dark, sodden robe that was stained with rust, soot, and other unspeakable substances. He was trembling, a bald spot atop his head shining dully with the dampened sunlight barely piercing the mist. "Are you alright?" she found herself calling before she could restrain herself, and instantly regretted her words as the gnome turned to face them.

There was such a look of rage and loathing on his face that it stopped her in her tracks. Though seemingly young for a gnome, his face was tortured and prematurely aged by some unknown struggle in his past, and his eyes reflected this torment, but were tinged with contempt for everything around him. Reflexively she clutched at the half-moon shaped pendant hidden under her robe. Sohana had given her the pendant at nearly the same time that she had given Nedra her own, shaped like half of a sun. The governess had looked her deeply in the eye as she handed her the half-disk of silvery gem and metal. "This is no ordinary pendant, Piyoa. I once made one for my husband and kept half for myself…it will always help you to identify the other bearer, no matter what form they take, and you will always know if they are alive," the cleric had explained to the young girl in a deathly serious tone. She remembered the older woman placing a still-fine hand on the golden disk resting on her breast and stating, with a fond look on her face, "You can feel their heartbeat if you concentrate, just as they can feel yours. So long as you wear it, the two of you will always be as if you were never apart."

But even as Piyoa could feel the slow, steady heartbeat of her sister as she gripped the pendant, her own chest fluttered and pounded with apprehension at this odd sight in front of her. The gnome spoke, his voice like a rusty chain being dragged along the stone wall of a well from far in the depths, "High elves…pah! It figures…has your arrogance once again led you to preach at Ak'Akon? Don't waste your breath." There was such…weariness in his voice, as if he was long resigned to the cruelty of the world. Celsiir was unsure of how to handle this new threat, but one look at Piyoa's frightened face and his mind was set. Placing himself in front of the women, he drew himself up straight and responded in a firm voice, "That was uncalled for, sir! We do not wish to hinder you, but to pass and hunt the beasts that wander these foothills! And our people only speaks the truth to those we pass, we do not 'preach' like self-absorbed Erudites!"

Yet the gnome's expression did not change, he continued to glare at the three elves, turning fully to face them. An eerie presence billowed forth from him. Though he did not seem to be much more experienced than they, an unearthly aura seemed to surround him. With the same dry tone, the gnome spat back, "Humph, as usual, you are blind to all save what you are taught…the same old lessons, the same hollow faith that you know all there is right to the world. What gives you the right to condemn? Just because someone does not fit your narrow band of morality, the constraints of what is 'right', they are to be a pariah? Even if you don't pretend to follow that contempt, your elders have long established the tradition." Celsiir was astounded at the hurt in the gnome's voice, but steeled himself and proclaimed, "None are condemned that do not deserve to be treated as such! If they are a just person, even if they are unusual in form and belief, that should not earn them the disfavor of their fellows."

But what the paladin received for his attempts to be fair was a sneer. "Oh, but that's not true! You don't even believe it yourself; I'll bet…you're just trying to escape without angering me…as if you could avoid that, you stuck-up prat! Do you know what I received for being 'different'? Shunted down to the Mines of Malfunction! Anything deemed… 'defective' is sent there, machinery or man. As if you high elves looking down your noses at everything that moved wasn't bad enough…to be hated by your own people is worse than anything you can imagine," the gnome hissed, almost raving as he paced in front of them.

Trying to be patient, Celsiir took a deep breath, and took hold of Piyoa's hand gently, and began to move to the side as he carefully replied, "I'm truly sorry for what has transpired in your life, but we have done you no harm. You yourself are judging before knowing us, as you accuse us of! We shall impose on you no more, let us pass today, and we shall never return to these mountains." To his surprise, the gnome lifted an eyebrow appreciatively as they moved off to his side, and muttered, "Really? I think not." As the paladin edged closer to the mist, a skeletal arm swung out of the mist bearing an axe, and nearly cleaved Celsiir's head from his shoulders. "What are you playing at?" the high elven man bellowed, his patience wearing thin.

The gnome's expression continued to change, his interest had been piqued, and an amused look had replaced the sneer. "To tell you the truth, I have been waiting for someone to come along…to prove my theories. By merely refusing to allow you to pass from this spot, your prejudice will soon be revealed. Beneath the veneer of even the most genteel of gnomes, elves, and men, everyone bears a deep-seated hate for anything that differs from what they expect. And today, you shall get nothing you expect. You shall not get manners, you shall not get respect. You want passage, you shall get none…you seek order, I shall give you chaos," the gnome drawled, striding confidently in front of them.

Pushing Piyoa and Fleuyr to the center of the circle, Celsiir attempted to move back towards the entrance they had come from, only to be blocked once more by the undead figure of a skeleton, surely the servant of the bizarre gnome that blocked their retreat! Every move the paladin took towards the edge of the fog, the skeleton marauder would appear out of the mist. Celsiir tried trading blows with the creature, but was swiftly sent crashing to the ground for his trouble. Stumbling to his feet, it was clear by the flush to his face and the clenching of his jaw that the young man was frightened, angry, and frustrated. Fleuyr crept closely to Piyoa and whispered in her ear, "Though I don't want to leave Celsiir, we two can gate back to Felwithe and bring aid! The guard shall surely help us calm this gnome, or at least remove us from his wrath."

But the gnome had noticed their whispering and spoke loudly, "If you are thinking of teleporting home, forget it! I shall allow you no magic today, and for you to try shall be your death!" This threat was the final straw for Celsiir. The paladin had endured enough abuse towards himself and that of the woman he felt affection for, and stepped up close to the gnome and leveled his sword at him. "All right, you hateful goblin, we have had enough of your sick game. You shall fall faster than your servant will, and then we shall have our freedom from the jail your bitterness would impose on us!" And with a sad but satisfied look on his face, the gnome sighed and muttered, "And there it is."

Slowly, deliberately, the gnome raised his arm along the same level as Celsiir's sword, and some unknown, twisting force leapt forth from his hand. Before the paladin could drop his sword, the mysterious energy leapt up the length of the metal, warping it as it went along, and slammed into his own body. Startled, he attempted to heal himself from whatever damage the unidentified sorcery had caused. But as the blue sparks began to surround his hands, they unexpectedly blinked, spun, and began shifting colors. Unexpectedly wounds began opening and healing all over his body. The energy alternately salved these burns, or scorched his skin anew.

"Celsiir!" Fleuyr cried, and ice crystals danced around her hands as she readied an Ice Shock spell to try and aid her friend. Piyoa had been frozen to the spot when she had seen the result of the gnome's attack, but the emotion in her longtime confidant's voice startled her back to alertness. Could it be that Fleuyr…? But the gnome snickered and raised his hand again and the same energy flickered and Fleuyr's spell backfired, coating the poor woman with ice that would shatter and thaw at spots and refreeze again, blasting her with cold over and over. The gnome laughed creakily at the high elven woman's attempts to stop this spell, which succeeded barely as she reached her limit. Likewise Celsiir's oscillating, malfunctioning healing spell had finally ceased.

"Who are you! Why are you doing this?" Piyoa shrieked, the events confusing and frightening her to her core. "My name is unimportant. My goal is everything. I shall strip away this false morality that everyone hides behind…force them to recognize that which they tried to shove aside. You three are merely the test subjects for a larger, grander mission. Your friends have served their purpose, now it's your turn," the gnome told her with an acerbic grin, noting that Fleuyr had fainted, and Celsiir could barely stand. As the gnome hobbled towards her, taking the first active movement he had made since the whole ordeal began, Piyoa was filled with the desire to escape. She knew she could teleport on her own, without the need for magic, and had taken others with her. She might not be able to help both of her friends, but she had to get away, she had to try! But as she dashed towards Celsiir, whose face grew both shocked and hopeful as she drew near, the gnome's hand again stretched outwards and the writhing energy hit Piyoa's body, the shock surprising her into activating her hidden power before she wished in fright. But unlike the painless, seamless shifts in space that she had before accomplished, it felt like her entire body was being torn apart at the seams as the world faded in a haze of swirling madness and in a matter of seconds, the young wizard seemed to dissolve into sparks, her agonized scream the last thing to fade. His own pain getting the better of him, Celsiir slumped to the ground, his muscles not obeying his frantic commands as with his entire soul the young man tried to push himself towards the spot where the woman he loved had disappeared. "Piyoa!" he gasped as darkness claimed him. The gnome was genuinely surprised by the effect that his power had achieved, but shrugged, satisfied with his experiment as he hobbled off into the mist.

To be continued in Chapter Three, Lost.


End file.
